


What Does Not Signify

by Who Shot AR (akerwis)



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Comfort, Conversations, Established Relationship, Georgian Period, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Napoleonic Wars, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Permanent Injury, Secret Relationship, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-04
Updated: 2012-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 03:43:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akerwis/pseuds/Who%20Shot%20AR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Major spoilers for <i>Crucible of Gold</i>.  Granby and Little talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Does Not Signify

Granby had been inclined to think more than usual on his particular affliction those past few weeks, when he had been well enough to think of anything at all. For some time, he'd floated in a consciousness bound at every corner by a pain that ached to his very bones, but that had subsided with the surgeon's visit. When he was once again possessed of an ability to consider his lot, his thoughts returned all too easily to his conversation with Laurence on the eve of his botched betrothal.   
  
It couldn't be helped, truthfully, after having been forced to bare his dearest bosom secret to a man whose respect he had vowed to keep from the day he was made first lieutenant. Of course, a Navy man could hardly be expected to be innocent of such matters, but knowledge didn't preclude a man from unfavourable opinions of sodomites. He had a prayer of thanks in mind when it became clear that Laurence had no intention to castigate his practices--at least at that moment--and for the time, found some solace in that fact. It was cold comfort, when one considered that a friend's nod and shrug did little to stave off the prospect of matrimony, but it was comfort nontheless.  
  
(Laurence was, after all, a good man. Had he been more inclined towards such activities himself, Granby might have found himself infatuated. But of course, it was a fool's errand to find oneself behaving like a lovelorn boy over a man who could never return the feeling with any zeal, and Granby did like to think himself a bit less reckless than that.)  
  
But combined with the loss of his arm, more tormentuous than he should like to let on--it could wake him in the night with a painful formication, somehow, despite having been gone for some time now--he found himself inclined to mope. Only alone, of course, trying to keep all his more desolated thoughts from appearing on his face. But it was a damned shame to realize that however his health might have improved from his amputation, his appearance was made just a little less forgettable by it.  
  
"Don't be daft," Little said quietly as they walked along the shore one evening, far enough down from prying ears to speak of things that mattered only to them. They'd left Iskierka and Immortalis snoring with the other dragons, Iskierka's spikes letting off spurts of steam every now and again, and excused themselves from the company of the others with the excuse that Little had news of Granby's relations at home. They'd given the lie, of course, but no one should know but Laurence. And Laurence had--very kindly, in Granby's opinion--done his damnedest to make no recognition of Granby's arrangement with Little. When Granby and Little were in his presence at once, he seemed to forget that Little was there at all. "You're not the only one with reason to be discreet. The rest of us aren't about to _tell_ , just because you've lost an arm."  
  
"I should hope not," Granby said tartly, kicking a rise of sand and watching the granules fly out in a spray before the toe of his boot. "I'm only saying, it's much easier to identify me from afar. It's not you I'm worried about, but onlookers."  
  
"The embroidered coats weren't exactly ideal concealment, either." Granby suspected Little was rolling his eyes (and how pleasant it was to see them again, wide and blue as the afternoon sky), but he hadn't the heart to look up and prove as much to himself. "Nor the height. Perhaps you're a little more noticeable now, but you were hardly fit for espionage before."  
  
"And I have no plans of such frippery again." It was still new and satisfying to be able to proclaim such things, and despite himself, Granby smiled. "I've only traded one insignia for another."  
  
"That's the spirit!" This time, Granby did look up, for Little's voice had lost its drier intonation. Indeed, he was smiling, and the moon bright enough in the sky that Granby could see it clearly. There were moments when he could kiss the man, full on the mouth, if only they were someplace with a door that locked and curtains which could be drawn; a grateful smile in return would have to do for the moment. "If you're terribly worried, we'll stuff a glove with cotton and put it over your hook."  
  
"And look all the more a fool when the hook tears through the leather?" Granby answered, a bit of fondness in his words, and wrinkled his nose at the thought. "I think I'll take the risk."  
  
Their talk turned to other subjects then, and they walked on, just out of reach of the broad sheets of seafoam that stretched up the beach with each successive wave.


End file.
